Page 14 of The Mafia's Quintuplets

With the essential permission granted, I close the remaining distance between us. Our lips meet gently at first, a question rather than a demand. She responds with surprising eagerness, moving her hand to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair. The kiss deepens naturally, hunger building as the world around us fades away.

She tastes faintly of alcohol, but not in an overwhelming way. Her lips are soft and yielding beneath mine.

I cup her face in one hand while settling the other at her waist, moving her curvy body closer. I need to know more about those curves, about her. Not just what’s on the outside, but what’s inside…

And how good it feels.

What begins as exploration quickly transforms into something more urgent as she presses against me, her curves fitting perfectly against my rigid muscles.

I trail kisses along her jaw to the sensitive spot behind her ear, feeling her shiver in response. Her hands explore the breadth of my shoulders and the muscle beneath expensive fabric, learning my body as I learn hers. When I find the pulse point at her throat with my lips, she makes a soft sound of pleasure that sends heat through me like fire.

I pull back for a moment to look at her face again. Her lips are slightly swollen from our kisses, her cheeks flushed with color, eyes luminous with want. She has never looked more beautiful than in this moment of undisguised desire.

"Willemina." My voice is gritty and raw. “I think the bed would be more comfortable for what I’m about to do to you.”

In her eyes, I see desire battling with caution, spontaneity challenging responsibility. We balance on the edge of something neither of us anticipated when the evening began, something that could change us both in ways we can't predict.

6

Wil

"Let’s go." The word leaves my lips with surprising certainty, my voice steadier than I feel inside. "But you’d better not be all bark and no bite."

His eyes darken at my response, pupils dilating with lust. The energy between us shifts instantly, the air becoming charged like an electric storm. Maxim reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers with mine as he guides me toward the bedroom doorway. My heart pounds against my ribs, a mixture of nervousness and exhilaration flooding my system.

I haven’t felt like this since…

Damn, I don’t think I’veeverfelt like this.

The bedroom beyond continues the suite's aesthetic of luxury. A massive king-sized bed dominates the space, and untouched white silk glows softly in the dim lighting. Another wall of windows offers the same breathtaking view of Manhattan, but we’re high up enough that nobody would see what we were about to do.

I pause at the threshold, sudden uncertainty washing over me. This isn't me. I don't follow strangers to suites above nightclubs, don't succumb to impulse, and don't abandon control. I'm always the responsible one, the predictable one, the one who weighs consequences before acting.

Maxim releases my hand immediately, creating space between us. "Second thoughts?" His expression becomes carefully neutral, though tension lingers in the set of his shoulders.

"Not exactly." I work to articulate the confusion swirling through me. "Just... I don't do this. Ever. I'm always the responsible and predictable one." I look up at him, vulnerability making my voice catch slightly. "I don't want you to think..."

"I don't think anything except that you're extraordinary." He interrupts gently, his accent more pronounced with emotion. "And that I want you, but only if you're certain."

His sincerity cuts through my hesitation, returning me to the present moment. This is my choice. Not a mistake, not a lapse in judgment, but a deliberate decision to claim pleasure I've denied myself for years. "I am certain." I reach for the remaining buttons of his shirt, newfound boldness guiding my fingers. "Surprisingly so."

I work each button free with deliberate care, revealing more of his tanned skin with each one. As his shirt falls open, I'm surprised to discover several scars marking his torso, a jagged line across his right shoulder, another at his ribs, and smaller marks scattered like a map of past violence. It’s shocking, but at this point I know his past, or maybe even his present, holds more danger than he let on.

“What happened?” I ask, curiosity temporarily eclipsing my sex drive.

He captures my hand, bringing it to his lips. "A business disagreement. Nothing worth discussing tonight."

The deflection is obvious, but I don't press him about it. Instead, I let him redirect my attention as his hands return to the zipper of my dress, which still hangs partially open from our earlier encounter. With deliberate slowness, he eases it down, his gaze never leaving mine as the fabric slides over my body. His fingertips trail along my newly exposed skin, igniting nerves I didn't know could be so sensitive.

The dress continues its descent past my breasts and over my waist before finally pooling at my feet in a puddle of black fabric. I stand before him in simple black cotton underwear, practical rather than seductive, and chosen without expectation of being seen. Self-consciousness flickers briefly before the raw appreciation in his expression extinguishes it.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his gaze traveling over me with an intensity that makes my skin flush with heat.

"Your turn." I tug at his partially unbuttoned shirt, suddenly eager to level our exposure.

He complies, removing his shirt. The full revelation of his upper body steals my breath as I take in broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, defined muscles that speak of disciplined strength rather than vanity, and those mysterious scars that hint at a life far more complicated than simple business dealings.

His pants follow, revealing powerful thighs and an impressive erection straining against his black boxer briefs. When those too are discarded, I stare at his fully naked form, mesmerized. He's magnificently proportioned, with his cock larger than I anticipated and already drooling like a hungry beast.

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